He was silent for so long, I wondered if he’d answer me. Finally, he said simply, “That’s accurate enough.” I regarded him for a moment, but his face was unreadable.
“Prison must have been…very hard for you.”
Something passed over his expression, but he schooled it with passivity before I could attempt to name it. “You have no idea.”
There was an awkward silence.
“And now, you’re a felon.”
He leaned forward, his steady, dark gaze fixed on me. “Yes, Kira. I’m a felon. I can’t get a loan—as you well know. My employment options are limited to say the least. Many doors are now closed to me. You’re going to be married to a felon. Frank Dallaire’s daughter is going to be married to a felon.”
All the more reason for him to extend our estrangement, perhaps make it permanent. Which suits me just fine. But I didn’t say that. Instead, I answered, “It’d be difficult for me to disappoint my father more than I already have.”
He studied me again with his dragon eyes, the ones that seemed to see right through me. “I’ll take your word for that.” He suddenly stood, startling me slightly. I jumped up, and we almost collided when we both went to step forward. He steadied me by putting his hands on my upper arms. I raised my eyes to his, and when he looked down at me, he seemed startled too. “I have to go,” he said, turning and beginning to walk toward the door.
“Oh, okay,” I said, following him. “Just one more question, um, regarding the timing of this arrangement.” I looked around the motel room, calculating quickly how many days I could stay here. Of course I’d also need to hire a lawyer to draw up a prenuptial agreement with the Dragon, someone who had no connections to my father. “I know you probably want to…well, the thing is…”
“You don’t have the money to stay here.”
I let out a breath. “I do, but not for long. Especially if I’m going to need to pay lawyer fees.”
He stood in front of the door, rubbing the back of his neck. Finally he said, “Pack your suitcase. You can come with me now. We’ll arrange a lawyer tomorrow. But, Kira.” He turned, looking me in the eyes. “If this doesn’t pan out in a way we’re both satisfied with, I’m going to ask you to leave immediately.”
“You wouldn’t have to ask.”
He jerked his head in a quick nod. “I’ll give you five minutes to pack.”
Yes, sir, Dragon, sir I was tempted to respond sarcastically. But I zipped my lips and hurriedly began packing my things.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I had checked out of the motel and was following Grayson’s black truck through the gates of Hawthorn vineyard.
I had been taken aback by the vineyard’s beauty the first time I’d arrived here, and I was just as taken now. Massive oak trees bordered the long driveway, the canopy of leaves shading our vehicles as we drove beneath them. The Hawthorn home, which stood just behind a courtyard with a courtly, round fountain in the center, was a vision of grace and elegance, and yet it managed to look warm and inviting at the same time. Ivy climbed one side of the large structure, and elegantly curved wrought-iron balconies flanked every window on the upper floor. The acres and acres of vineyards created a breathtaking background to the house and gardens, and I could see a small grove of fruit trees off to the left of the house—peaches, perhaps, or maybe apricots.
At first glance, it looked like a lush paradise just waiting to be explored. It was only as you drew closer that you noticed the fountain wasn’t running, the ivy needed tending, and the lawn and surrounding gardens were overgrown. The gardener had been dismissed, no doubt. It was beautiful nonetheless. In its glory, this place must have been magnificent. My eyes lingered on the rolling hills of vines in the distance, as I wondered at the state of grapes they’d produce. I looked forward to seeing it restored, not just for Grayson’s sake but for the sake of beauty itself. A place like this shouldn’t be allowed to crumble to ruin. I thought Gram would agree. But I pushed the thought of my gram aside for the moment. No, she wouldn’t want to see this beautiful vineyard in the place she’d loved so much crumble to ruin, but she’d also roll over in her grave to know I was marrying for money. I am a woman who will marry a complete stranger for money. That is me. Despair filled my chest momentarily. I knew that about myself now, and it brought another small measure of self-loathing.
Grayson pulled the truck over before we’d driven around the fountain, and I parked behind him, just noticing a small house on the right, partially hidden behind a very large oak and overgrown foliage. He had called it the gardener’s cottage, but most likely, any gardeners who had worked here recently hadn’t lived on the property and had used this “house” strictly for equipment storage. Still, there was something quaint about it, half-hidden as it was, and draped in overgrown wisteria. I got out of my car and Grayson did the same, walking toward me. There was a glint of devilish challenge in his expression. Did he expect me to balk at the accommodations? Probably. Surely he saw me just as everyone else did: a spoiled princess, a daddy’s girl who lived a frivolous, useless existence. And now he was going to have some fun with me. Well, let him try. What did I care what he thought? In a few months’ time, I’d never see him again. Our lawyers could handle the extremely straightforward divorce proceedings and I wouldn’t think of him again. And vice versa, I was sure.
I followed Grayson to the door of the cottage, where he moved the large, showy blooms of purple wisteria aside and opened it without a key. Inhaling a big breath of the vining flowers, I stepped inside. Well. Rusty, obviously unused gardening equipment filled the front room. It was dusty, dirty, and smelled of mustiness and motor oil. I fought my way through the cobwebs and walked into the second room, what had once been a bedroom but now only held a small metal bed with rusted springs.
“I’ll have Charlotte bring you some blankets and a pillow, of course,” Grayson said from behind me. I whirled around and eyed him. Was that amusement in his eyes? Why yes, it was. His lip trembled as if he was trying to control a smile that wanted to burst forth. Think this is funny, do you? Well, what he didn’t know was that the accommodations I’d been keeping for the past year had featured a dirt floor. To the people I’d been living with, this would be a castle.
“I’ll bathe in the fountain, I suppose?” I asked, smiling sweetly at him.
“The fountain doesn’t work. There’s running water here. Only cold, though, no hot. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
“Noooo,” I drawled out. “A nice cold shower invigorates a person, I’ve found. I prefer cold showers actually.”
The scaly dragon appeared to consider that. “I’ll bet you do,” he finally said, leaning one narrow hip on the doorframe as he watched me. How nice for him that he was having so much fun. I’d never back down now. I’d sleep on the floor in this dusty shack if it meant getting the best of Grayson Hawthorn.
“Is there a kitchen? A place I might eat the crusts of bread you’ll throw me?” I asked. “After I give you your portion of my inheritance, of course.”